On the Descent upon England, Written at the Desire of a Favourite

1

Blow soft ye Breezes o’er the wave,
Soft as the thoughts that Love inspires,
And safely bear, to Angleterre,
The Fleet that takes my heart’s desires.
Ye gentle Fates, if such there be,
Who watch o’er human hopes and fears;
O! land it safe and let me see
The friends that share my anxious cares.

2

The World in Tumult long has liv’d
A Stranger to the Voice of Peace,
And longer still will it be griev’d,
Till Britain’s Crimes be made to cease.
Look round the Globe from East to West,
Or cast a glance from Pole to Pole
’Tis Britain bars the world from rest,
’Tis Britain harrows up the Soul.

3

See Afric’s wretched offspring torn
From all the human heart holds dear,
See Millions doomed in Chains to Mourn,
Unpitied even, by a Tear.
See Asia and her fertile plains
Where once the Bramin dwells serene,
Now, ravaged by the thirst for gain,
Till Famine ends the dismal scene.

4

It is to bind the Tyrants hands,
To give the tortured world repose,
That France sends forth her chosen bands
To meet her friends, or seek her foes.
’Tis then, and not till then, that we,
A better world may hope to view,
’Tis then that man will happy be,
And nations Love as I love you.